American Werewolf in DC
by fearlessgoddess2
Summary: Gibbs calls in the IOU from Sam and Dean from Deanie Boy . Crossover between Supernatural and NCIS.
1. Chapter 1

**American Werewolf in DC**

**Summary: Gibbs calls in the IOU with Sam and Dean (from **_**Deanie Boy**_**).**

**Rated: T**

Chapter 1:

Dean's conscious flickered to life behind his eyelids, aware that it was too dark for the alarm clock to be going off already. Not to mention that alarm clocks didn't play his cell phone's ring tone.

"Dean," came the grunt from the other bed.

"I got it, I got it," he grumbled. Dean opened his eyes and reached for his cell phone, which was about an inch away from vibrating off the bedside table, and picked it up, flicking it open. "Yea," he muttered.

There was a brief pause. "_Dean Winchester?_"

Something official and firm in the voice on the other end of the line brushed away the cobwebs of sleep in Dean's head and he blinked a few times, pushing himself up, clearing his throat. "You first."

"_It's Gibbs. I'm calling in that IOU._"

It took a couple of seconds for Dean to place the name, and then the tone of voice fell into place. _Gibbs. NCIS. Marine. _"Gibbs," Dean repeated, wincing slightly as Sam switched on the wall lamp. "Been a while. Ah…what time is it?"

Another pause. "_0200._"

"Alright. What couldn't wait 'til the sun woke up?"

"_I'm not sure. Abby's actually the one that told me to give you a call,_" Gibbs told him."_Wouldn't tell me why. Said she didn't want to be the one to tell me and that you would come to the same conclusion she did. After the incident a year ago, since there weren't any more murder-suicides after you guys left, I figured I'd call in the IOU._"

"Okay. So what jumped out at Abby?" Dean asked, sliding his legs off the bed to a more comfortable sitting position. "What's the case?"

"_Ah…I got three dead Marines and more questions than answers,_" Gibbs said, his tone expressing just how he felt about the fact. "_Two were killed last month. First one had his throat ripped out and his chest torn open. Second was the same. My M.E.'s best guess was that some animal tore them apart. But the deaths ended there. Until tonight. Four hours ago, I got a call. Dead Marine. Ravaged. You want to tell me what the Hell's going on?_"

Dean pursed his lips and moved the cell phone away from his mouth slightly, looking to Sam. "Calendar," he said quietly. Sam got up off his bed and started going through his duffle. "Lemme ask you something," Dean said to Gibbs. "You said the bodies were ravaged. Did your M.E. find any organs missing?"

Pause. "_Organs?_"

Dean's eyebrow quirked slightly. He'd caught the spike of interest in Gibbs' voice. "Yea. Like…their heart."

Another pause. Rustling of papers. "_You want to tell me how you knew that?_"

Dean took the small planner from Sam, flipping through it until he found what he was looking for. "For my next trick…the murders last month were between March 5th and 7th. Am I right?"

"_Winchester, I called you to get answers to questions, not for you to tell me what I already know. Now how the Hell'd you know that?_" Gibbs asked.

Dean pursed his lips, irritation creasing his face. "It's a werewolf," Dean told him point blank, tossing the planner back to Sam and taking a slight amusement in the look he imagined on Gibbs' face.

Once again, there was a heavy pause. "_Werewolf._"

"Ya. Werewolves eat the heart of their victims and the killings correspond to the lunar cycle. Look, Sam and I are in New York right now. We're working on a haunting, but a werewolf trumps that," Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck. "So we'll get in some more sleep and take off in the morning. We'll call you when we're on our way and you can fill us in on what you've got so far."

"_Alright,_" Gibbs muttered. "_A werewolf…._"

"Listen, are you out at the crime scene right now?" Dean asked.

"_Yea. Why?_"

"It might be lurking around. It'll be hard to miss if it's shifted, sharp teeth and all, but shooting them with lead bullets ain't gonna do much," he said. "Sam and I'll have the weapons to take this thing down, but until we get there, make it known that whatever this _animal _is, if someone spots it, they don't give chase. They'd only get themselves killed."

Gibbs sighed. "_Okay._ _You get my number from caller ID?_"

Dean glanced at his phone. "Yea."

"_Alright. Call me when you take off in the morning. I'll tell Abby you're on your way._"

Dean nodded once, but before he could respond, there was a _click _as Gibbs hung up. Dean stared at his cell for a moment before bringing it back to his ear. "So glad to be appreciated. Say hi to Abby for me." He tossed his cell back onto the bedside table. "You think that's a Marine thing?" he asked.

"What?" Sam asked.

"Dad used to hang up first all the time too," Dean muttered. "Ah…set the alarm for…." Dean let his voice trail off as he slid back under the covers and grimaced. "Nine. We're puttin' this town in our rearview mirror. Destination DC."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

Abby stared intently at her computer screen as she input information. She turned back to the hard drive in front of her, inspecting the pieces, then back to the computer screen. After an unknown amount of time had passed, she stopped with a sigh. "Gibbs, I told you, I'm not going to have the results from Major Mass Spec for at least another hour. That is the _only _reason I'm working on this right now."

"Major Mass Spec?" asked an amused voice.

Abby's eyes widened and she spun around, a wide smile on her face. "Dean!" she exclaimed, running over and giving him a hug.

"Hey, Abs," Dean replied, hugging her back. "How've you been?"

"Good," Abby said, pulling back. "Sorry, Gibbs is the only one who'll walk in totally silently and just stare at me. Figured the hairs standing up on the back of my neck was him."

"No problem."

"Where is Gibbs anyway?"

"Down in autopsy with Sam and, um, Ducky?" Dean asked, quirking an eyebrow. Abby nodded. "He told me where to find you. We're all meeting down there for a pow-wow on the case."

"Gibbs didn't even tell me he'd told you to come," Abby said, leading him out of the lab and over to the elevator.

"I'm assuming he wanted it to be a surprise. And I'm sure it will be when the rest of the team finds my face familiar," Dean said with a smile as the elevator doors closed.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"…And so they were concerned that a coyote had wandered into town. Mind you, this was California, so that was a distinct possibility. However, it turned out to just be a stray dog. Vicious thing, but it was no coyote," Ducky said.

"Do you know what kind of dog it was?" Sam asked, eyebrows furrowed.

Just then, everyone's attention was drawn to the automatic doors as Dean and Abby walked in. "Hey guys," Abby said with an easy smile, looking around at Gibbs and the rest of the team.

Ziva and McGee's eyes narrowed at Dean, but it was Tony who straightened up and said, "Hey, you were…what the Hell is _Ted Nugent_ doing here?"

"Actually it's John Bonham," Dean replied without skipping a beat. "But you can call me Dean."

Tony's expression lost none of its suspicion as he turned to Gibbs.

"Good memory, DiNozzo," Gibbs said with a nod. "They're here to consult on the case."

"Consult?" Ziva asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"This one's a little out of your league," Dean explained.

"I'm gonna need a little more than that," Tony said, glaring at him.

"Tony, take it easy," Abby said pleadingly. "He's a friend, okay? They both are. This is Dean, that's Sam. Now can you please just explain what we've got on the case so far?"

Tony looked to Gibbs again, completely confused. "Boss?"

In an answer, Gibbs picked up a file folder from an adjacent table and handed it to Dean. "That's what we got," he said, folding his arms.

Dean went over to the autopsy table, opening the file and laying out the crime scene photographs as he went through the paperwork. He glanced up to Gibbs. "So how many people in this room know why Sam and I are here?"

"Including me and Abby? Two," Gibbs told him. "I've asked my team, as a favor to me, to keep this close to the vest."

Dean gave a grunt of affirmation. "Okay. But I mean in that case, they don't need to be here."

"I wanted them on hand in case we needed any help," Gibbs answered. "DiNozzo worked homicide before he came here. McGee knows computers inside and out. Ziva's a one-woman army, smart, quick on her feet. You and Sam are here because I think you can do a better job than we can at stopping these deaths. If there's anything they can help you guys with that'll keep another Marine from getting torn open, consider my team available." The agents glanced to each other in confusion, trying to figure out if they'd just been complimented.

"Noted," Dean said, surprise lacing his tone.

Sam studied the crime scene photos. "All three victims' hearts were missing?" he asked, looking to Ducky.

"Correct. Their chests were ravaged, obviously, but when they were brought back here I concluded that the hearts were, in fact, missing completely," Ducky replied. "The first two were released to the family weeks ago, but the most recent is still here. Would you be interested in giving it a once-over?"

"Yea, thanks," Sam said, he and Dean following Ducky over to the body drawers.

Ducky opened the door and pulled it out, pulling back the sheet. "Quite a vicious attack. I conducted an autopsy, but if I may say so without sounding offensive, there wasn't much of an autopsy _to_ do."

"Yea, I can see that," Dean muttered.

"Dean?" Abby asked quietly.

Dean's eyes slid to hers and he nodded tightly in confirmation. She let out a small sigh and crossed her arms tightly.

Sam gave Ducky a nod and he re-covered the body, pushing it back in. Sam and Dean went back over to the file and skimmed it. "So you haven't done much investigation into the case?" Sam asked, looking up from the thin folder to Gibbs.

"I'm sorry, what _case_?" Tony asked, annoyed. "Isn't this a job for animal control? I mean can someone tell us what's going on?"

"DiNozzo," Gibbs said sharply, his voice low and reprimanding. "We don't have the means or expertise to handle this case. Therefore I've brought in outsiders who do. Would you like to argue with me about it?"

Tony blinked and his mouth opened slightly in surprise, then closed. He shook his head. "No, Boss. I'm good."

"Good." Gibbs turned back to Sam as Ziva and McGee gave each other questioning looks. "No, we haven't done much investigation. There wasn't any cause for it. Now I'm not knowledgeable about this stuff, but you think motive would be a factor with something like this?"

"Yea," Sam replied. "It might. It has been in our experience, in the past."

"Alright." Gibbs looked over to his team. "What did you gather on the victims? They have anything in common?"

"Uh, yea," McGee said, startled at suddenly being brought into the conversation. He handed over his file, as did the other two agents. "Two months ago, they returned from Iraq. Their unit was there for twelve months, under Corporal Andrew Shaw."

The folders were opened on the autopsy table as well. "Alright," Dean murmured, looking them over. He lifted his eyes to Gibbs. "Looks like these files are all Xeroxes."

"Yes they are," Gibbs replied. Dean nodded at him once in understanding, grateful that they would be able to take the files with them if needed.

Sam looked up to McGee. "How many others are there in their unit?"

McGee blinked. "Ah…four, I believe."

Sam nodded once and looked to Gibbs. "Think we could get Xeroxes of some files on them too?"

"Yea. Three of you get on that," Gibbs said, nodding toward the automatic doors. "Basic background and military file, nothing extensive's needed."

"Sure thing," McGee said, glancing back at Dean for a split-second before he left, Ziva and Tony on his heels.

"I'm assuming you think the rest of the unit are potential targets?" Gibbs asked.

"It's a theory," Dean said, continuing to look over the files. After a long moment, Dean shuffled the papers all back into their folders, making a small pile. "Okay. Ah…I'd say this…falls under our jurisdiction," Dean said, realizing that vague conversation was still necessary with Ducky in the room. "With the timetable we're working with, Sam and I have to haul ass. We've got interviews to do. Now I get it, your people don't like being kept in the dark," he told Gibbs, "and it's true that I'd love to have extra manpower on this, but they wouldn't even know what questions to ask in interviews or what to look for unless we bring them in on it."

"Out of the question, unless it's completely necessary," Gibbs told him quietly.

"Alright. In that case what I said on the phone before holds," Dean said. "If we've got any questions we can't find answers to, can we give you a call?"

Gibbs nodded, taking a business card out of his pocket. "Sure thing. My cell's on the back," he said, handing it to Dean. "My agents should have something for you within twenty minutes. You got the time to wait for that?"

"Yea, that's fine," Sam replied, glancing at his watch.

"Ducky, I think Sam would really like to hear some of your fascinating stories," Abby told him.

"What stories?" Sam asked, looking to Ducky.

"Well, young man, I didn't start out as an M.E. in Washington DC. My work has actually taken me all over the world. Why, I remember my first trip to a foreign nation after I'd graduated medical school," Ducky said. "I went to Hong Kong, and medical examiners happen to have much authority there. You know, I believe I still have…. Well, Samuel, is it?"

Sam blinked and nodded. "Yea, sure."

"Samuel, I still have the reports on some of the first autopsies I ever conducted on my own," Ducky said, walking over to his desk, Sam following him. "It was quite exciting. I had this vision of being surrounded by law enforcement officers in the morgue, everyone waiting in anticipation for me to reveal cause of death, when in reality I was the only one down there in that basement…."

"How'd you know they'd click like that?" Dean asked, looking over to Abby with a half-smile.

Abby glared at him. "Just because I haven't hung out with you guys in a while, doesn't mean you've changed that much," she told him. "I'd think you're a good fit with DiNozzo, actually."

Dean narrowed his eyes. "The cop?"

Abby smiled. "You two would get along. Trust me."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

"What kind of grievance?" Gibbs asked, taking the files from McGee.

"Sexual harassment," McGee replied. "Rachel Whitmore was the only female in her unit of seven. She requested a transfer, which was denied. She turned in her papers when the unit returned. Officially, right now, she's a civilian."

Sam lifted up one of the pages in her file, reading it over, and pursed his lips. "Dean," he murmured. His brother took a look at the file, met Sam's eyes for a moment, and then looked to Gibbs.

"Can we talk alone?" Dean asked. "I mean, Abby can be there, but everyone else…."

Gibbs motioned slightly as he left the room and Sam and Dean picked up all the Xeroxed files and followed him out into the hallway, Abby with them. They went into the elevator and as soon as the doors closed, Gibbs flicked the switch to shut it down.

"Huh. Your own private office?" Dean asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"It works. What's wrong?" Gibbs asked.

"Rachel Whitmore's file," Sam said quietly, showing it to him.

Gibbs looked where he was pointing. "Med exam after her tour in Iraq?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, looking to him.

"Yea," Sam said pointedly.

"What is it?" Abby asked, fidgeting with her hands nervously. Gibbs looked back to the file, taking it from Sam, and read over it. Abby could see the exact moment where something clicked in Gibbs' mind. "Gibbs?"

"Attacked overseas by a dog. Scars on her leg. You think it's her," Gibbs said quietly, closing the file.

"It makes sense," Sam told him softly, taking the folder back from him. "One of the last werewolves we came across didn't remember turning, attacking people, but he did turn a woman his human counterpart had feelings for. We think it was his subconscious that caused him to do so. And in this case, Rachel had to leave the Marines because of what her unit was doing. Most likely, she hated them."

Gibbs nodded slowly, gnashing his teeth together. "So chances are she doesn't even know she's killing people," he muttered. Sam remained silent as Gibbs leaned back against the wall, staring at the ceiling of the elevator, and he suddenly slammed his fist into the wall. Abby jumped. "Now I got a former Marine that I can't arrest for murder who most likely is gonna keep raising the body count! What the Hell am I supposed to do now?" Gibbs yelled at Sam, stepping toward him.

Sam didn't falter. "You asked us to help you on this," he told him firmly. "And we told you that lycanthropy has no cure. This is where your job ends and where ours starts."

Gibbs ran a hand over his face anxiously. "So I'm supposed to stand by and…." He let out a long breath.

"I'm sorry, Gibbs," Abby whispered. "I should have just called them myself. Kept you out of it."

Gibbs deflated slightly, glancing to her. "No, Abs, you did the right thing," he murmured. He paused for a long moment. "I did the wrong thing bringing the rest of the team into it. Cause now they're gonna hear about Rachel's death and they're gonna get pissed at me and wonder who the Hell you guys were and whether you killed her."

"Whoa, hold on," Dean said instantly, holding a hand up. "We went on the assumption that anyone you let in on this would keep it quiet if push came to shove."

"They would keep it quiet, if they knew what the Hell _it _was," Gibbs told him. "But I don't want them finding out."

"You _didn't _want them finding out," Dean corrected him. "If they'll go to a superior on this, we've gotta tell them what's what." He paused, staring at Gibbs, waiting for a response, and his eyebrow twitched just slightly. "Naw…naw, you brought us into this. You can't just throw this problem at us and expect us to deal," Dean snapped.

"That's not what I'm gonna do," Gibbs snapped back, straightening slightly.

"Dean, he wouldn't do that," Abby told him.

"Do you—does he even know who me and Sam are?" Dean asked, turning to Abby. "Does he know the kind of shit storm that'll rain down on us if word gets out that we're still alive?"

"You save lives from things that law enforcement can't handle," Gibbs told him. "I told Abby that I was okay with that. So no, I don't know. But I'm not gonna throw you to the wolves." He took in and let out a long breath. "And I'm also not letting you guys go after this thing on your own. You're killing someone, I want to be there to see with my own eyes why." Dean gave him a curt nod, knowing from Gibbs' tone that there was no room for negotiation. "Look…you and Sam…have to have experience telling people what's what, right?"

Dean met Sam's gaze and let out a slight laugh. "Ya. Ah…but we're gonna keep it low-key. Last year was a demon, now it's a werewolf. Aside from that, I'm not gonna go into more detail. For all our sakes."


	4. Chapter 4

**I don't even have the next chapter written yet, so if I were to be practical I would wait until tonight to post this one…but I figure you guys like the story, so I'll post it now. :) Either way, I'll get the next chapter written soon and figure out exactly how I'm ending it. I've got a good idea of what to do, and there's a twist at the end! *cackles evilly***

Chapter 4:

"What is a…werewolf?" Ziva asked, folding her arms anxiously and looking around to the other agents.

"Gibbs…?" McGee started. Then he stopped, closing his mouth, as if changing his mind about saying anything.

"This is nuts," DiNozzo stated. He looked from Gibbs to Abby, then over to Sam and Dean. "I mean seriously? A _werewolf_? Come on, that's been twisted around by everyone from Joss Whedon to John Landis!"

"It does cover all the metaphorical bases, however," Ducky mused quietly. "The missing hearts, the ravaged bodies, and…isn't that fascinating? I do believe…." He walked over to his calendar on the wall and made a matter-of-fact grunt of confirmation.

"Oh, you're kidding me," DiNozzo said, glaring at him. He turned back to the two hunters before him. "Really? The lunar cycle? Really? God…this is so much easier when you're watching it on television."

"It's not actually like the movies," Dean told him. "It's really only a half-shift."

"I would really appreciate it if someone told me what is going on, since it appears that I am the only one who does not know," Ziva said, sending a glare of her own from Tony to Gibbs. Gibbs continued to stare at the wall, his lips pursed.

"I'm sorry, where are you from originally?" Dean asked.

Ziva blinked at him. "Israel."

Dean looked to his brother. "Sam?"

Sam narrowed his eyes at him. "What, consult the encyclopedia of weirdness?" he asked. Dean made a shrugging gesture. Sam sighed. "Aside from golems and the occasional spirit or demon, Hebrew mythology barely touches on anything concrete, much less werewolves." He looked to Ziva. "You seem fine with English though; you just don't know what the word itself means. It's…shape-shifting. It's when a person changes into…something else, whether completely or partly. In this case, a wolf."

Ziva stared at him. "When a person…changes," she echoed. "I am not misunderstanding this; you are speaking about something that…is supposed to be impossible."

"There ya go!" Tony said instantly, motioning to Ziva. "Couldn't have said it better myself. _Supposed to be impossible._ So how…? I mean—Boss?" he asked, looking to Gibbs. "You're seriously just going to stand there and do your stone statue thing while they try to explain to us how werewolves exist?"

"Actually, we're not so clear on the how," Dean told him. "Or the why. Just the what. We know what they are. We know how to kill them. And that's why we're here. You remember the last time I was here?"

"Not in extensive detail, it was a year ago, but the name Ted Nugent kinda stuck," Tony told him. "So what was that about?"

"Sam and I were here on a job," Dean explained. "Abby called us with a tip. She thought something was going on when Ducky—," he paused, looking to the M.E., "Ducky?"

"Yes, that's what everyone calls me," he assured him.

Dean nodded. "Ducky found some sulfur in one of the victim's mouths. A sulfuric residue can be evidence of a demonic possession. So Abby called us in and it turned out that she was right. There was a demon possessing women, killing their husbands, and then killing themselves. Obviously it did nothing to the demon, so it thought that made for a fun game. Until Sam and I caught up with it."

Tony stared at Dean in disbelief. "A demon," he repeated.

"I'm gonna sit down," McGee stated, taking a seat on a nearby metal stool.

"Demon. That word I am slightly familiar with," Ziva said quietly. "But to clarify…."

"Evil entity," Sam supplied. "It can take over a person's body, something that's known as possession."

"You guys okay?" Abby asked meekly, looking them over.

"Yea, by the way, how do _you _know about all this, Abby?" Tony asked, looking over to her. "Dean said you're the one that tipped them off about the…damnit, the _demon_."

"I told Gibbs all this last year, when they arrested Dean cause he was at the crime scene," she told him. "My dad's side of the family were hunters, like Sam and Dean. My dad was deaf, so he did most of the research end of it, but the whole family was pretty close. I grew up in it."

"I would like to ask a question," Ducky spoke up toward Gibbs, drawing eyes toward him. "You had kept this from us originally, Jethro. Why tell us now?"

A muscle in Gibb's jaw twitched. "Because we know who it is, Duck," he said quietly. "Apparently, when a person gets…infected, when they turn, their subconscious is still there on some level. So the human part can influence who the wolf part goes after. Motive was a part of this."

Silence was heavy over the room for a long moment. "_Ya'allah_," Ziva finally breathed in comprehension.

"Rachel Whitmore?" McGee asked in disbelief.

"Says in her file she was attacked by a _dog_ over in Iraq on her last tour," Gibbs said tightly. "She was bitten on the leg."

"Oh, so that part of the mythology we're going with?" Tony asked, his expression seemingly fixed in a glare. "Silver bullets too? Are we going to shoot her up with monkshood?"

Dean looked over to DiNozzo with a slow blink. "Obviously you're a big movie buff, but while silver bullets are true to legend, wolfsbane isn't an option," he told him. "There is no cure for lycanthropy. And trust me when I say we've looked."

Tony stared at Dean in shock for a second. "Now wait a second, you're not telling me that—." He stopped, looking to Abby, who was staring at the floor, and then to Gibbs. "No. No way. This is nuts!" he exclaimed. "Boss, you can't seriously expect us to kill this girl."

"No, DiNozzo, I'm not," Gibbs told him, his voice tight in his throat. "I'm expecting you to keep quiet while _we_ do."

"You…." Tony's gaze drifted to the floor and he leaned back against the wall. "This isn't happening," he whispered, closing his eyes tightly and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Gibbs?" Ziva asked, incredulous. "You can't be serious."

"There is no cure for what she is," Gibbs said, his voice quiet but heavy. "And she is going to keep going until every one of the Marines in her unit is dead, and then she'll move on to whoever else pisses her off. I'm going with Sam and Dean to stake out her house. And to make sure what they say is true."

"So you believe them?" McGee asked numbly. "You guys believe…all of this?"

"McGee, for me, it isn't about believing them," Abby told him. "I'm already there. I grew up with it. When I was sixteen, my aunt and uncle went after a nest of vampires, but two of the nest got away. Dean and his father protected me and my parents when they came after us for revenge. I've seen it. I've lived it," she whispered, her arms folded tightly across her chest. "So if you think they're just homicidal maniacs…then I'm a homicidal maniac too."

"So you…grew up with all this and you never told me?" McGee asked. "Never told anyone? I mean, not even Gibbs?"

Abby raised an eyebrow and motioned around them. "Because this is the result."

"We need to know that you aren't going to speak up when it turns out that Rachel Whitmore's body was found," Sam said honestly, looking around to each of the agents. "The only way for us to be sure it's her is to stake out her place and catch her turned. So that's what we're going to do. But after you kill a werewolf, they shift back to their human form. And if facial sketches of me and Dean go out as suspects in her death, we are thoroughly screwed."

"Exactly why I hate working with feds," Dean muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Oh, well, I've never even seen a werewolf, much less killed one that was really a twenty-five year old girl, so excuse me for having a conscience," Tony snapped.

Sam's eyes flashed at Tony and he took a step toward him, prompting Dean to grab him firmly around the arm as Tony flinched just slightly at the rage that had suddenly surfaced on his face. "Sam," Dean said in a low voice. "Not what he meant."

Sam swallowed hard, clenching and unclenching his fists as he stared Tony down. Once Dean felt Sam relax under his grip, he let go. "We have…consciences," Sam said quietly. "And it does affect us. Trust me."

Tony's gaze had lost some of its anger, but he simply moved his eyes over to Gibbs. "Boss, I want in on this one," he said.

"Whoa, hold on," Dean spoke up. "This is not a trip to the zoo. And the more backup we get on this one, the more bodies we've gotta make sure keep out of biting reach."

"I don't know if McGee and Ziva feel the same, but this is something I've got to see to believe," Tony told him.

"You don't trust me, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked.

"It's not about trust," Sam said, before DiNozzo even spoke up. "It's about proof. And without seeing it with his own two eyes, he'll probably always have doubts."

Tony stared at Sam for a moment before nodding briefly. "Thanks."

Dean sighed in frustration. "Fine. I don't like it, but fine. You keep in mind what you're risking by coming with us though," he told him quietly. "You get killed by it, that's one thing; you get turned by it…our only option is to put you down. We can't take the risk of doing the 'lock you up for three days a month' thing. Anyone else gets killed, or Hell, turned, that's on our heads."

"I risk death every day on the job," Tony replied. "Only difference here is that with this one, I'd be the one to pull the trigger on myself."

Dean nodded slowly, a shadow of respect flickering across his face.

"I'm in too," McGee spoke up suddenly. "If Gibbs and Tony are going, that's plenty of risk already. More isn't going to make a difference."

"Me too," Ziva said, her voice soft but firm.

Dean let out another sigh of frustration. "Great. A whole hunting party." He looked around to all of them. "We've only got enough firepower for us and Gibbs."

"Why can't we just put silver bullets in our guns?" McGee asked.

"Unless you slide it in a shotgun shell or another casing, a pure silver bullet would mushroom before it left the barrel," Tony told him matter-of-factly.

Dean blinked at him. "Impressive. Where'd you learn that?"

"I'm a movie buff, but I still do my research. Suspended disbelief only goes so far," Tony replied.

Dean nodded. "Silver-tipped in a Desert Eagle gets the job done."

"I carry a Desert Eagle," Ziva spoke up.

Dean raised an eyebrow at her and Sam blinked in surprise. "You said you speak Hebrew. You're Mossad?" Sam asked, obviously impressed.

"Officially," she replied.

"Damn," Dean murmured. "Alright, well we're still short two. Which of you are a decent throw with knives?"

"Tony and I are," Ziva told him. "I can give my firearm to McGee."

"Alright, ah…let's hammer out somewhat of a plan," Dean said, glancing to his watch. "We've got four hours until sundown."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

Special Agent Timothy McGee sat in the dark blue sedan, doing his best to look straight ahead at the building they were staking out and to _not_ think about the fact that he was sitting next to a werewolf hunter.

That was, at least, if the night proved Sam and Dean's insane prediction correct. McGee had no idea what he was in for if something actually happened on their end of the stakeout. He sat next to Sam, with Ziva in the back seat flicking her knife back and forth in her hand and staring at the apartment building. Sam and the two agents watched the building from the back and Gibbs, Tony, and Dean were in the Jeep across the street in the front. There was the main entrance and then two emergency exits in the back to the parking lot; other than that, Rachel Whitmore had one large window, three floors up, two from the left, that she would need to take the fire escape down.

McGee was very much trying not to stare at Sam, since several times Sam or Dean had looked over at him and noticed the staring. Dean tended to quirk an eyebrow at it, as if he knew why McGee was staring but really didn't care (or was used to it) and Sam blinked, as if uncomfortable with the attention. And over the last couple hours, through basic small talk that barely counted as entertainment, Sam seemed to be growing increasingly uneasy with the glances that easily turned into staring. But McGee seemed to have the somewhat annoying sensation that if he looked at these two young men long enough he would figure out what made them different. That eventually he would notice something that told him that they weren't just regular people, but monster hunters, young men who knew about all the secrets the dark held.

Except that he had yet to find anything. Sam and Dean seemed like two average, normal, although threateningly attractive, young males. They were strong and confident and weren't anybody McGee would want to meet alone in a dark alley, at least without his badge and gun…actually, even with his badge and gun, but there wasn't exactly anything about them that screamed anything other than _normal_. He supposed that was the point; if they were noticeable, that would be counter-productive to their job.

McGee realized he was doing it again when Sam sighed, looked over to him, and said, "You have a question or something?"

McGee quickly averted his eyes, swallowing, and shook his head as a self-conscious redness burned up the back of his neck toward his ears. "No, no, I'm fine."

"No, you're not fine," Sam told him pointedly. "You've been spontaneously staring at me for the last two hours." McGee chewed on his lower lip, concentrating on watching the building. Sam paused. "You were a computer tech?"

McGee's eyebrows furrowed slightly as he looked over to Sam. "What?"

"Before you joined NCIS and started as a field agent," Sam said. "You were a computer consultant?"

McGee shrugged and nodded. "Yea. I transferred to Washington from Norfolk in 2003. Got a Masters in Computer Forensics from MIT and a Bachelors in Biomedical Engineering from Johns Hopkins. I'm a field agent now for NCIS, but I still do a lot of the computer work that Gibbs needs done." He paused. "Why?"

"Well, Ziva is Mossad. Tony worked in homicide for a while. Gibbs was a Marine."

"Does that make me less of an agent than them?" McGee asked, his eyes narrowed, somehow going on the defensive automatically.

"No. But it makes you less prone to aggression and violence," he replied.

"Excuse me?" Ziva asked from the back seat.

"It's not an insult," Sam said, glancing back to her momentarily. "Okay, McGee, do you think you could win a fight against Tony or Ziva?"

McGee's eyes narrowed further. "What?" Sam just waited for an answer, continuing to keep most of his attention on the building they were staking out. McGee pursed his lips, looking thoroughly annoyed. "Unless I was able to take them by surprise? I doubt it."

"Alright. And who do you think would win in a fight, Tony or Ziva?"

McGee's eyes widened slightly. "I'm supposed to answer that in front of Ziva?"

"You believe that Tony would win?" Ziva asked, anger sliding into her voice, leaning forward to glare at him.

"No, but if Tony found out that I said that, he'd be pissed," McGee told her.

"So yea, I think I got a good sense of all of you," Sam said with a shrug. "Now do you know why Gibbs chose to group us like he did?"

"What, you mean in the two cars?" McGee asked.

"He put himself with Tony and Dean and the three of us essentially on our own. Really, he couldn't keep both of us with him because he did need me in one group and my brother in the other," Sam told him. "Now I was only around Tony for a short while, but I got a good sense of him. And Gibbs got a good sense of Dean. And while there's a pretty good chance that, another time, another place, Tony and Dean could be best buds, if you locked them in a room together alone for an hour, only one would come out alive."

Ziva smirked. "That sounds accurate."

"What does any of this have to do with me?" McGee asked.

"Among all of us, you, Ziva, Tony, Gibbs, and me and Dean, _you _are the most rational, the most book smart, the most probable to figure out a solution to a problem. And honestly…you're the least likely to shoot me or Dean if it seemed like we were trying to pull something," Sam told him. "It's because of that that you're trying to figure me out. You're trying to analyze me and find the most efficient way to protect yourself from us. Because you have no idea if we're on the up and up, and you aren't going to until your eyes lock on that werewolf."

McGee blinked, lifting his eyebrow a bit. "So my staring is a defense mechanism?"

"The best one you have. So," Sam said, "you should ask me questions. You've got plenty of them, I'm sure, and you're dying to soak up as much information as possible. Because that's what you do. Gibbs knew that, and that's another reason he put you with me; Dean's no slouch when it comes to knowledge about what we do, but I'm the go-to guy for a lot of stuff. So, you think I'm right?"

McGee did some more staring, though this time he was looking at Sam a bit differently. He took in and let out a deep breath and then said, "What can you tell me about werewolves?"

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"If you want to ask me something, then just ask me," Dean grumbled.

Tony blinked. He sat behind Dean, Gibbs in the drivers seat, and had spent most of the last few hours watching the apartment building, but some of it was spent staring at Dean, as if watching him long enough would let him get a sense of him. And the fact that Dean knew he had been staring at him was totally a Ziva thing. "What?" Tony asked, unsure of what else to say.

Dean flipped down his visor so he was able to see Tony's narrowed eyes in the mirror. "I've felt eyes on my back for most of the stakeout so far," he told him. "I'd say it was flattering, but I don't swing that way."

Tony's eyes dropped to a deadpan expression laced with anger. "Ha ha."

"Dude, seriously, if you've got a question, just ask me."

Tony pursed his lips, hesitating for a long moment. "What else is there?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean besides werewolves and demons. What else is real?"

Dean let out a long breath. "This, ah…isn't something you can forget," he said quietly. "If you lay eyes on this thing and you let yourself believe what you're seeing, whatever I tell you now is gonna be real too."

"I'm a cop at heart, Winchester," he told him. "Being clueless isn't a comfort, even if the other option is knowing more than I wish was really out there."

"Alright. Well…it'd probably be easier for me to tell you what isn't real," Dean replied, his trained eyes scanning down the sidewalk to the parking lot and back again. "Among which would be Santa, the Tooth Fairy, and the Easter Bunny."

Tony cocked an eyebrow. "So basically anything good."

"More like anything too good to be true," Dean said.

"How about God?" Tony asked, raising his eyebrows. "Got any insight into Him?"

"No facts either way," Dean sighed. "The only things I'll believe in is what I see, and what I see is usually just bad things happening to good people."

Tony grunted his agreement. "So the werewolf…is it more _I Was a Teenage Werewolf _or _American Werewolf in London_?" he asked.

"Not really either," Dean said with a shrug. "Mouthful of sharp teeth, eyes change color, nails turn to claws. So you're quite the movie buff, huh?"

"Since I was old enough to crawl to the television and put in a video," Tony replied.

"Constantly quoting them," Gibbs muttered.

Dean's eyes flickered to him momentarily, since he'd barely said two words up until that point, and then back to the mirror to Tony. "Yea? _Poltergeist_ was one of the best ones I've seen when it comes to hauntings actually," he informed him. "At least when it comes to the first two-thirds of the movie. The portal to another dimension and the giant face coming out of the closet is something I've never had the pleasure of dealing with. Plus people are always mixing up spirits and poltergeists, and in that movie they said that the poltergeist was there because of the cemetery they built the houses on. Moving the headstones but not the bodies. I mean in general, that's a really stupid thing to do, but…. A poltergeist isn't a ghost of a person that takes form; it's energy that manifests in the form of moving furniture and flying toys and crap like that. You know, interestingly enough, more than the old horror movies, one that's pretty accurate was _Shutter_."

"Oh, I saw that one. Rachael Taylor," Tony noted, raising his eyebrows. "She hasn't been in much, but damn easy on the eyes."

"I hear that," Dean replied with a smile.

"What do you mean, though, it was accurate?" Tony asked.

"Well, for one, the spirit photography," he replied. "Sam and I had a job not long ago where we caught a ghost on film. Helped us identify her. And you know that thing with _Three Men and a Baby_?"

"I've seen it," he said. "But what about it?"

"There's this one scene in the movie, you can probably find it online, where the camera supposedly caught the ghost of a young boy on film," Dean told him. "Nobody remembered the kid from set. But yea, aside from that, the fact that spirit photography isn't actually such a common phenomena that you can make a magazine about it, so people will fake the pictures in order to make money or whatever. And the Japanese are pretty into ghost stuff. Plus, how the spirit manifested, how it made their life a living Hell, that was pretty spot-on."

"Huh. So how do you deal with something like that?" Tony asked. "A spirit?"

"Ah…well, you ever heard of grave desecration?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

Tony blinked, but before he could respond, Gibbs' cell phone buzzed in his pocket and he took it out, flipping it open. "Ya, Gibbs…." His grip on the cell phone tightened. "Where?" he asked tightly. He paused. "On my way." He snapped his phone shut, opening the car door. "Winchester, DiNozzo, with me."

The two instantly got out of the car, shutting their doors, quickly on Gibbs' heels. "Don't tell me," Dean growled.

"Dead Marine, found in his home, chest looks like hamburger," Gibbs snarled as he crossed the street and went up the stairs, flashing his badge at the doorman. "Neighbor heard shots fired, called 911. How the Hell is that possible?" he asked, his narrowed eyes glaring at Dean as he pressed the button for the elevator.

"I've got no clue," Dean shot back, matching the man's glare as the elevator doors opened and they got in. "We saw her go in and she hasn't left unless she sprouted wings and flew."

"And as far as you know, werewolves can't do that, right?" Tony confirmed. Dean shifted his glare to the agent. "Just checking."

They went to the third floor, going quickly down the hallway. "Let me do the talking," Gibbs said firmly, stopping at Rachel Whitmore's apartment. He knocked forcefully four times on the door. "Rachel Whitmore? NCIS," he called out loudly. He paused for about five seconds, and then banged again. "This is NCIS. Open the door."

There was another three seconds of silence before they heard hurried footsteps and the peephole darkened momentarily, prompting Gibbs to raise his badge up to viewing distance. The door opened, stopped by the chain. A young woman stood, hair in disarray, eyes wide, staring out at them. "What do you want?"

"Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS. You're Rachel Whitmore?" he asked. The question was unnecessary, however, since Gibbs had immediately recognized her, prompting him to bite down hard on the inside of his cheek.

"Yes. What's wrong?" she asked.

"You're going to thank us later; we just established you an alibi," Gibbs told her tightly.

"An alibi?" Rachel exclaimed. "Alibi for what?"

"Are you aware that three of the Marines from your former unit, four as of about twenty minutes ago, are dead?"

Rachel's mouth opened slightly as she stared at Gibbs incredulously, and she blinked. "I-I heard about what happened to Jeff last night," she finally said. "But…." She stiffened just slightly. "Alibi. You were staking out my house. I was a suspect."

"We'll have some questions for you later," Gibbs told her, "but for now, keep your door and windows locked. The only thing they had in common was that they were in your unit, which now means you could be a target too."

Rachel let out a sharp breath before nodding. "Yes sir," she said quietly.

At that, Gibbs turned and went back down the hallway, Tony and Dean following him, and took out his cell phone, dialing a number, pausing as it rang. "We've got another one. We checked, Rachel's still at home. We're back to square one. Tell McGee and Sam. Crime scene's at 230 East Miller Drive. Meet you there."


	6. Chapter 6

**Shorter chapter than before, I know, but I'll get more up soon! :)**

Chapter 6:

"You know the drill with a crime scene?" Gibbs asked as he walked with his team and the Winchesters toward the murder site.

"Yes sir," Dean replied. Sam's eyes slipped to his brother, whose voice had sounded just a little too tight, and Sam only saw the thinly veiled rage in his brother's expression because he knew it would be there. Dean pointedly didn't look back toward Sam.

"Good. Don't do anything that'll make me regret letting you behind the tape," Gibbs told him.

Dean grunted his agreement and kept up with Gibbs' quick pace up to the house. Tony and Ziva showed their badges and Gibbs gave the okay for Dean to come past the crime scene tape as McGee and Sam approached the ambulance where a woman sat, a blanket around her shoulders, a young girl in her arms.

Sam swallowed past the lump in his throat as he stopped in front of them. The girl, who he knew from Gibbs was Nina Parker, couldn't have been more than eight. Nina sat on her mother's lap, curled into herself with her mother's arms wrapped tightly around her. She stared straight ahead, at nothing in particular, and looked almost catatonic. Though he had only been six months old at the time and had no memory of it, Sam couldn't help but think back to that night evil had come into their home and torn their family apart. He knew that Dean was thinking about it, for sure. The police cars and ambulance that flashed red and blue across the mother's and daughter's faces was all too familiar and it curled harshly in his stomach. He pushed it aside.

"Mrs. Parker?" McGee asked gently, showing her his badge. "I'm Special Agent McGee with NCIS. Can you tell me what happened?"

Harriet Parker's eyes slid up to McGee's, her expression haunted, and then moved to Sam. "Who're you?" she asked quietly.

"My name's Sam," he said, trying to hunch and make his tall frame seem less intimidating. "I'm a consultant with NCIS. I'm sure you went through this already, but…can you tell us what you remember?"

Harriet's eyes shifted back to McGee's for a moment before sliding down and away. "Jax woke me up. He said he heard something downstairs…a smash…glass breaking. I'm a heavy sleeper so…. He got his gun out of the safe…we always keep it locked up because of Nina…and we went down the hall to Nina's room. She had woken up too. I went to her and took her…in my arms. Jax was about to go downstairs…and he turned…and just…froze." She hesitated. "He…said something…I-I don't…." She swallowed and Sam bit down on his tongue as tears started slipping down her face.

"He swore, I think…. A-And…something…_leapt _at him. He fired his gun…a couple of times…and I…pushed Nina down and…shielded her from…. I heard it…_killing_ him," she spoke through a hitch in her voice, "so…violent and…." Harriet swallowed again and cautiously looked up to McGee. "I looked up and…it looked over to me…. _He_…looked over to me."

"You're saying it was a person?" Sam asked quietly.

"I don't know," Harriet whispered, shaking her head slightly, looking to him. "I could barely see, but…. It looked like a man…he was white…I-I don't know how…tall, just…. When he leapt at Jax he…he _growled_ like…." Her voice trailed off as her eyes drifted away to stare at the ground.

Sam looked to McGee, whom he could see was standing rigidly, staring at the woman and her daughter, before looking back to Harriet. "I promise you that we will catch whoever did this," he told her quietly. Sam saw McGee flinch minutely at his voice, but ignored it. "Do you have family or friends nearby that we can contact for you?"

"Jax's parents live about an hour from here," she murmured, not looking up to him. "The police called them already. They'll be here in a while."

"Alright." Sam looked to McGee, motioning slightly with his hand, and mouthed, "_Card? Your phone number?_" McGee looked flustered for a moment before he took his badge out, taking a card from the slit in the side and holding it out to Harriet, who slowly took it.

"If you need anything, anything at all, don't hesitate to call that number," Sam told her softly.

Harriet put the card into her robe pocket wordlessly and Sam tugged subtly at McGee's jacket as he turned and walked away.

McGee followed, only speaking when they were out of earshot. "I don't usually…freeze like that," he forced out.

"I know," Sam replied tightly. "And I know that if you didn't know what had done this, you wouldn't have this time either. That's why I took the initiative." He looked to the agent. "We'll get it. I promise."

"Yea…but how long is it gonna take?" McGee muttered, staring at the crime scene tape around the house.

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"_Tell me what you're looking at,_" Sam said.

"Exactly what we expected," Dean muttered, his eyes narrowed at Jax Parker's body. "A dead Marine, lots of blood, and a gaping chest wound that I'll bet good money is missing a heart. What'd you get from his wife?"

"_Exactly what we expected,_" Sam said quietly. "_No ID on the wolf, though she said it looked like a white male. She's got McGee's card if she needs a number to call. CSI's doing their jobs?_"

"Yea," Dean said, his gaze flickering over the crime scene technicians. "We've got no shortage of Locard's theory in action, and if we get any suspects we actually have the resources to narrow it down. Or NCIS does, at least. But if we're looking for a guy…what are we thinking? Someone else from the unit? Or someone else on a revenge kick?"

"_Don't know. But we'll finish here, get some sleep, and first thing tomorrow morning we'll go knocking on doors and asking questions_," Sam replied. "_There's six of us, so tracking down leads will go faster than usual._"

"Sure. We'll hammer it out tomorrow."

"_Okay. Well, McGee and I are going to talk to some of the people out here, see if they saw anything._"

"'Kay. Later." Dean snapped his phone shut, shoving it in his pocket as he stared at Jax Parker from about six feet away as CSIs worked around him. He paused for a few seconds, knowing that this was going to creep into his subconscious and haunt him with flashbacks and twisted dreams that night, before he turned and walked back down the hallway.


	7. Chapter 7

**Last chapter! Enjoy! :)**

Chapter 7:

Ziva walked up to McGee and Sam, who were standing at the end of the walkway up to the house. "His wife saw it?" she asked, her voice quiet.

Sam swallowed and nodded. "Yea. I just talked to Dean. He told me what he was looking at up there."

"Yes. Gibbs is talking to the crime scene technicians and Tony is finishing the sketch," Ziva said. She paused, her eyes scanning over the lawn and the wooded area to the left of the house, as if in deep thought.

"What now?" McGee asked, looking to Sam.

"We missed something," he murmured. "There has to be someone else who would have a motive. We just didn't find them yet."

"Do you feel that?" Ziva asked, her eyes narrowed.

Sam brought his eyebrows together, looking around.

"You think someone's watching us?" McGee asked, sparing a subtle glance around. "Who?"

"The question is not who, but from where?" Ziva muttered. Her eyes had settled on the woodsy area.

Sam started walking toward the woods as he took out his cell phone, which was vibrating in his pocket. He flicked it open and held it up to his ear without moving his eyes from the trees. "Yea?"

"_Police assumed the guy left the same way he came in,_" Dean said.

"He didn't?"

"_Office down the hall, I'm standing at the window, there's a smudge of blood on the windowsill._"

Sam slid his hand to the gun in the small of his back, glancing to Ziva and McGee, who were following him. "Outside the window, what do you see?"

"_Ah…woods. Tall fence about three feet away, then woods. We're on the second floor, though, so even I could probably make the jump over it. But if I did, the landing wouldn't be pretty._"

"But _it_ could. Dean, I think it caught a bullet and it's hunkered down in the woods, hiding," Sam said, meeting Ziva and McGee's eyes as he said so. "Get down here."

"_Are any of the crime scene techs working the perimeter of the house?_" Dean asked, walking quickly down the hallway. "_If it's hunkered down, it's like a rattlesnake._"

In a horrible coincidence of timing, Sam heard a cry of surprise that turned into a scream of pain. Sam's careful, brisk walking instantly turned into a sprint forward, McGee and Ziva on his heels, as he snapped his cell phone shut and shoved it into his pocket, taking out his gun.

Sam got around the end of the fence, heading into the trees, his eyes peeled, as his other hand went into his jacket and took out a flashlight. He raised his gun, aligning it with his flashlight, as his sprint fell back to careful, quick steps so he wouldn't trip.

Ziva's well-trained eyes scanned the area, a silver blade in each hand, and McGee had his flashlight and Desert Eagle up, the same as Sam. Sam grimaced slightly as he heard the sounds of approaching policemen to back them up. His flashlight finally fell on a patch of weeds that were pressed down, and the light flickered slightly over the blood stains. Sam moved his gaze across the trees, stopping in his tracks, grateful that the two agents did the same, as he listened for any noises. He started quickly forward again, following the sound that he heard, the morbid sound of someone choking on his own blood.

It wasn't long before Sam's flashlight landed on the crime scene tech, who by now stared up at nothing with empty eyes, his throat nearly torn out. _Anger_, Sam realized. _This wasn't instinct or survival; it was pissed someone came down in it when it was healing._ The thoughts came within a split second as Sam raised his flashlight around to try to spot the creature.

There was a whoosh of air in unison with a harsh growl and Ziva cried out in surprise as something tackled her from the trees. She sharply turned, plunging her blade into its side as she shoved it off of her. It hit the tree with a smack, falling to the ground, and Sam and McGee both shot it several times. Two of the bullets pierced its heart and it collapsed to the ground. It shuddered, shifting back to normal, and Sam stared at the young man, his face illuminated with his and McGee's flashlights. He tried to gasp for air a few times, his eyes wide with shock, before he jerked once and lay still.

Sam turned to Ziva, helping her to her feet, as a couple policemen tried to take stock of the situation.

"This is Sam Nugent," McGee said instantly, putting up a hand to officers who he knew recognized everyone holding a weapon but Sam. "He's with us." He got a nod from a few of the cops as Sam turned to Ziva, tucking away his gun.

"You okay?" Sam asked, holding her back a bit to look her over.

Ziva's voice lowered just enough to be unheard by the cops. "Didn't bite me," she breathed, holding a hand against her chest, which was bleeding. "Just claws." Her wide eyes met his. "Is that bad?"

Sam shook his head quickly. "You're fine."

"Sam!"

"McGee! Ziva!"

Shouts came as more flashlights flickered around. "What happened?" Gibbs asked as he arrived at their side.

"He's dead," Sam told him, keenly aware of the other officers in his peripheral vision who were examining the unsub's body as well as the dead crime scene technician. "Ziva got cut, but she's okay," he added, exchanging a glance with Dean.

Gibbs nodded once at him in understanding. "Tony, get Ziva over to one of the ambulances. Have them patch her up."

"Sure thing, Boss," Tony said quietly, motioning to Ziva. Ziva slowly followed Tony, tucking the other blade she'd been holding into her jacket.

Gibbs' tight face looked over the dead young man lying in the bushes, following the glow of his flashlight. "Don't recognize him."

"Well, he's someone," Dean muttered, staring at him. "We'll figure out who."

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"So it must be nice to not have to do paperwork," Tony grumbled as he typed away on his computer.

Dean smiled wryly at him. He sat, leaning back in a rolling chair, staring at DiNozzo filling in blank after blank in the forms on his screen. Sam was sitting next to McGee, talking what Dean assumed was shoptalk for geeks, while Gibbs and Ziva handled the forensics end of things down in autopsy. "Well," Dean sighed, "paperwork lets you bill the government for motels, fast food, and bullets, which I would love to be able to do. Plus, you get paid on top of it all. So don't be bitching to me about paperwork," he told him.

"Fair enough." He stopped typing, looking over to Dean. "How _do _you pay for all that?"

Dean paused for a second. "Think part _Rounders, _part John Connor from _T2_."

Tony considered what Dean had said before grunting in affirmation, sitting back and turning the chair slightly to face him more. "Well that explains the fraud charges on your record, but what's with the kidnapping, armed robbery, and murder charges?" Tony asked.

Dean quirked an eyebrow. "Really?"

"You didn't expect me to check up on you once I got your last name?" Tony asked.

"You're a cop," Dean said. "I expected nothing less. What I was asking was do you really want to know how I got those charges?"

Tony stared at him for a long moment. "You dodged the monsters question before too," he murmured. "You really think I shouldn't know."

"What I really think is that if I tell you, you're gonna be second-guessing yourself constantly as an agent and wondering if something that doesn't make sense to you would make sense to me or Sam," Dean told him. "You don't just learn the basics of this stuff, DiNozzo. That's not how it works. That's why Gibbs called us in on this. You've lasted this long on what you know through homicide and NCIS. And…you're a stand-up guy. For a cop."

Tony smirked. "But you're still not gonna tell me."

Dean paused. "No. I'm not. But I think you've spent enough time around me and Sam that you know the charges you found…aren't the whole story."

Tony pursed his lips and nodded once. "Ya."

"DiNozzo, why aren't you typing?" Gibbs asked, walking into the bullpen with Ziva.

"Not my fault," Tony told him, turning back to the computer. "Winchester distracted me."

"Uh huh," Gibbs grunted. "Ducky's starting the autopsy. Did you fill out the papers for the Nugent brothers here?"

"Yea, those are done," McGee replied. "The _registered_ weapon that Sam fired is fully logged and documented."

"McGee," Abby said, walking around the corner and over to the screen between his and Tony's desks. "Check your email."

"What'd you find?" Gibbs asked.

"I got an ID on our John Doe," she sighed, waiting in front of the screen for McGee to pull up the info.

"And?" Dean asked, standing and walking up to stand beside her.

"Charles Bankman, age twenty-nine, resident of Washington DC," McGee said, his voice thick as he put up the information on the screen, "step-brother of Rachel Whitmore."

"Damn," Sam muttered, staring at McGee's computer monitor. "She told him."

Dean let out a long breath and turned to Abby, taking her in a hug. "It's been real," he said.

"Already?" she whined, hugging him back. "You just _got _here."

"You know I'm not the type to stick around," he said, giving her a shit-eating grin. Abby smiled back as she went over to give Sam a hug. Dean walked over to Gibbs, holding out a hand. "Consider us even."

"I do," Gibbs replied, shaking his hand firmly. "But I'm assuming I can still call you in on a consult if I ever need it?"

"We're not the types to turn down a job," Dean said with a nod. He looked to Ziva. "There's a full clip of silver tipped bullets and a clip of wrought iron rounds for your Desert Eagle in your desk drawer if you ever need them."

Ziva narrowed her eyes. "I keep my desk drawers locked."

Dean smiled and looked over to McGee, giving him a nod, as well as DiNozzo.

"Bye Abby," Sam said with a smile.

Abby gave him a small wave as he and Dean left, walking over to the elevators.

"Abby," Tony said a moment later, rotating his desk chair a bit so he was facing her. "Question."

"Yea?" she replied.

"Dean wouldn't tell me about the stuff they usually go up against. Thought it would throw me off my game," he told her.

"You want me to give you the inside scoop on hunting?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"At least…tell me what movie your life was most like as a kid," Tony negotiated.

Abby sighed, staring at him for a few seconds. "You really want to know?"

Tony blinked. "Yea."

Abby walked over to him, putting her hands on the armrests of his chair and leaning in close, prompting him to narrow his eyes and lean back slightly, as she shifted her expression to deadly seriousness. "Think _The Omen_. And I'm Damien." At that, she stood up and walked off to the elevator to go back to her lab.

"Oh. Oh very funny, Abby," Tony called out to her. He paused. "You're joking, right? Abby?"

**THE END**


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